


Freshly Cut Grass and Apple Strudel

by Nyhne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Roderich likes to bake, asexual!Austria, cute hospital visits, implied HunBel, jock!Gilbert, shirtless Gilbert mows the lawn, the boy next door
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyhne/pseuds/Nyhne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert's been the Boy Next Door for the last seven years of Roderich's life. He's annoying, rowdy, and to Roderich's frustration, straight. But perhaps sometimes, opposites aren't really so different after all. High School AU!PruAus. Written as a 'if you draw the thing I'll write the thing' with the-plague-doctors on Tumblr. You can find a link to her super cute fanart on my original Tumblr post or in her art tag!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freshly Cut Grass and Apple Strudel

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, last upload of older stuff on here to catch this account up. This was written for the-plague-doctors on Tumblr as a 'draw it I'll write it' agreement. It's based off of a Tumblr post that inspires the rooftop scene (you'll see what I mean).

Gilbert had been the boy next door for as long as Roderich’s family had lived at 55 Penrose Drive. They had moved there when Roderich was ten, the summer before he would start sixth grade and the year Roderich first knew that he was different from other boys.

Gilbert was eleven at the time. He had silvery blond hair that wouldn’t lay flat and the oddest bronze colored eyes Roderich had ever seen. Unlike Roderich, who was just skinny in general, Gilbert was lanky from constantly playing soccer—whether it was with the neighborhood kids whom Gilbert seemed to have no trouble befriending immediately or with his brother, Ludwig, who was two years younger than him and looked like he was the poster boy for cereal box commercials.

The Beilschmidts had moved to be closer to Gilbert’s grandfather, an elderly man of military background who used to sit in the living room loveseat and tell Gilbert and Roderich all about Gilbert’s great-great-something-or-another who was a high-ranking commander in the Prussian army. The stories never really captured Roderich’s interests, but Gilbert would sit next to him in rapt attention, the boy’s eyes wide for every detail. As soon as the story was done, he would grab Roderich’s hand and drag him off to the backyard, where they would reenact the battles of old, despite the fact that they were ten, and about to start middle school with the Big Kids. 

Grandfather Fritz would pass away when Gilbert was thirteen. The following year his parents would split under a mutual agreement and Marie Beilschmidt would be left to raise the two boys on her own. And as they grew, Gilbert and Roderich developed into what seemed like completely opposites. While Roderich’s quiet, introverted nature kept him indoors with his books and the violin, Gilbert’s less reserved personality meant he was always running with the popular crowd, despite being the new kid in town. Even as Roderich traded his books for Tumblr and the violin for piano, Gilbert was still the star soccer player on the team and the heartthrob of the school. He’d even outgrown Roderich, who used to be two inches taller than him when they were kids, and now stood at a handsome height. 

They were nothing alike, and if American high school stereotypes were to be believed, they weren’t even supposed to be talking to each other. But Roderich’s parents used to offer to carpool the Beilschmidt boys to school and the habit stuck, although nowadays Gilbert insisted on driving Roderich in the morning because he “didn’t want the princess to get lost in his own neighborhood again.” (It had happened _once!_ )

Roderich supposed that they were begrudgingly friends. Gilbert would torment him at school, making faces during class and pulling on that one curl of hair that refused to stay down no matter how much Roderich worked at it, and Roderich would turn his pointed nose up at Gilbert’s presence whenever he saw him. But Gilbert kept his jock buddies from harassing Roderich too much and sometimes Roderich would help his mom bake cookies for their German neighbors, although he refused to delivering them. 

By the time they had reached their senior year of high school, some things had just become routine between them and Roderich began to realize with a bit of a pang that he was going to miss his unruly neighbor when they both went off to college. He wondered if Gilbert had been thinking the same, given his odd behavior as of late, but that afternoon during chemistry Gilbert had spent the better part of the lecture flicking paper footballs at Roderich’s desk much to the amusement of his buddies, and things had almost felt normal.

“You just make it too easy,” Gilbert explained to him as they walked home from school. He’d insisted on accompanying Roderich since he didn’t have to be down to the fields until four-thirty. It was the third time that week.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Roderich scowled back, his fingers curling tighter against the strap of his messenger bag.

Gilbert gave him a look. “C’mon, Roddy, you know what I mean. You play the piano, run the gay club at our school, and I’m pretty sure you have to be wearing a corset or something under all those clothes because you definitely look like a girl.”

“I do not!” he protested. “It’s just genetic, I can’t help if my body looks that way.”

“Is shaving your legs also genetic?” Gilbert snorted.

Roderich flushed deep red. “I just prefer how it feels,” he defended, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “Besides, since when was my body any of your business?”

“It’s not,” Gilbert replied, rather quickly. “But we _are_ next door neighbors….”

“So you’re spying on me, then,” Roderich stated bluntly.

“Not spying!” Gilbert corrected. “It’s just, y’know, not much privacy, that’s all.” He tried to shrug nonchalantly.

Roderich eyed him suspiciously, but they’d just arrived at his house and it wasn’t worth questioning him further, he decided. He was guilty of the same thing, after all. (But that was only because Gilbert came over on the weekends to mow their lawn as a favor for carpooling him and his brother all the time and sometimes, during the summer when it got especially hot, he would strip off his shirt and Roderich would be able to see every sculpted muscle on the other boy’s body.)

“Whatever you say,” he muttered instead, adjusting the shoulder strap again so he could check the mail. It was mostly bills and junk mail, but at the very end Roderich found a well-traveled envelope with the addresses written in neat, green handwriting.

Gilbert looked over his shoulder without bothering to be inconspicuous about it. “That crazy bitch’s still writing to you?” he asked rudely.

“Erzsébet’s not a bitch,” Roderich frowned. “And yes, we still write to each other. Some of us actually like keeping in touch with our friends.”

Erzsébet had been Roderich’s best friend since before Gilbert had moved into the house next to his. They had first met when Erzsébet’s mother would force her to take ballet classes at the studio next to where Roderich’s violin lessons were. Although her personality was much more akin to Gilbert’s than Roderich’s, they had struck up a fast friendship that had helped carry Roderich through middle school. She was the one who had actually founded the LGBT club at the school, but ended up getting accepted to a special program in Belgium for her last year of high school and had insisted that Roderich take over in her place. He missed her every single day, but they still corresponded via mail and Skype calls.

Roderich tucked the letter into his bag and closed the lid of the mailbox. “Don’t you have to go to practice?” he asked, not at all subtle about the hint. 

“I can be late,” Gilbert shrugged. “They let me do whatever I want. Y’know. Being the star player and everything.”

He winked and Roderich simply rolled his eyes. Gilbert really could be full of himself sometimes.

“But yeah,” Gilbert stretched his arm out casually and faked a yawn. “I guess I should get going. See you later, Hot Rod,” he flashed a grin as he started to walk backwards from Roderich.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” Roderich protested. 

“What? Can’t hear you!” Gilbert’s grin widened. He gave Roderich a mock salute before turning tail and jogging off in perfect form, leaving Roderich scowling at the end of his driveway.

–

The envelope was almost an inch thick, a myriad of international postmarks covering the front. Erzsébet had printed both of their addresses on the front in her curling, scrapbook-quality handwriting, Roderich’s name a little slanted from where the envelope bulged out on the edges. 

Smiling fondly, Roderich set his book bag down on the bed and went to sit at his desk, hooking his thumb under the flap of the envelope to tear it open. Unsurprisingly, it was stuffed with folded up papers, as well as a number of Polaroid photos that Erzsébet had somehow managed to squeeze in there. Erzsébet had bought the camera the previous summer as a side project to her normal photography work and Roderich could see that Europe was serving her muse well. The photographs were of old buildings and dappled countrysides, on each one a location and date printed in black sharpie. 

When Roderich finally got to the last one in the stack he was surprised to find it of someone he didn’t recognize. The girl in the photograph had her shoulder length blonde hair pushed back with a headband, her bright green eyes matching the beaming smile on her lips. Underneath the photo the only thing Erzsébet had written was a little heart.

The corner of Roderich’s lips pulled upwards. He’d always known that Erzsi would do well in Europe. He snapped a picture of the Polaroid with his phone and sent it to her over Facebook Messenger. 

**Roderich Edelstein: You could have just told me**

Only a moment later she replied:

**Erzsébet Héderváry: she’s pretty isnt she? ;)**

Roderich shook his head to himself and leaned back in his chair, glancing down at the Polaroid on the desk before tapping back a reply.

**Roderich Edelstein: Is she from school?**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: no she goes to university around here i met her at a coffee shop down the block**

**Roderich Edelstein: That sounds like the kind of fanfiction you would write…**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: lol! u kno me too well**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: hows school going?**

**Roderich Edelstein: It’s been fine.**

He hesitated at leaving it at that before continuing.

**Roderich Edelstein: Gilbert walked me home from school today**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: ugh is that creep still giving you a hard time? he makes me so mad >:(**

Gilbert and Erzsi’s relationship wasn’t exactly on good terms. For some reason, ever since Gilbert had first moved into the neighborhood, they had always seen each other as “competition”—over what, Roderich wasn’t exactly sure, but Gilbert had been a little too happy to hear the news that Erzsébet was leaving….

**Roderich Edelstein: He’s not so bad..**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: you’re just saying that because you think hes hot ha ha**

Even if they weren’t talking face-to-face Roderich could feel his face heating up. He glanced around the room self-consciously before replying.

**Roderich Edelstein: I do not!**

**Roderich Edelstein: Were just friends. Not even that, we just happen to live next to each other**

**Roderich Edelstein: Besides you and I both know he’s straight**

**Roderich Edelstein: If I DID like him, that is**

**Roderich Edelstein: Which I don’t**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: oh honey, the niles not just a river in egypt ;)**

He could almost hear Erzsi cracking up on the other side of the computer. So what if he found Gilbert a little bit attractive? He was athletic and good looking; he had a great jawline and when he smiled….

Roderich quickly shook his head from that line of thought. Gilbert was _straight_ he sternly reminded himself. He liked pretty girls with big breasts and flowing blonde hair: everything that Roderich was not. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the view when his neighbor was out mowing the lawn—he didn’t have to know. 

**Roderich Edelstein: Isn’t it getting late over there?**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: ha ha i get it ;)) dont worry your secrets safe with me**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: but i guess i should go to bed. Im glad my letter arrived safely <3 i cant wait to read urs!!**

**Erzsébet Héderváry: goodnight!! <333**

The green light next to Erzsébet’s name disappeared and Roderich groaned, smacking his free hand to his face. She knew him too well, even from three thousand miles away. At least it was Friday, so Roderich wouldn’t have to see _him_ for another two days. He’d just keep himself inside for the weekend and practice for his upcoming piano recital. Ignoring the sound of the lawnmower going in their front yard wouldn’t be that hard, after all….

–

…But Saturday morning, bright and early at ten AM, Roderich was awoken by the sound of a lawnmower noisily starting up from the front of the house. He groaned and pressed his face into his pillow in a futile effort to block out the sound. Why did he have to do it so _early?_

After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to fall back asleep Roderich finally rolled over with a groan and decided to get up for the day. Thankfully his window looked out the back of the house, so the image of Gilbert mowing their lawn shirtless could remain nonexistent for a little while longer.

He slipped on a light violet v-neck that complimented his unusually-colored eyes, the weather finally permitting for short sleeved clothing once more. It was hard to believe that the year was almost over—in less than a month he would be done with high school forever and getting ready for college. Sometimes it seemed rather surreal.

He decided to check out the window on his way downstairs, craning his neck casually to see if he could catch a glimpse of unruly pale blond hair. The lawnmower could still be heard growling somewhere on the other side of the house, a low hum in the background of a typical summer day. Assumedly, Gilbert was out there as well, up and down the yard in the slow heat of the day….

“That Beilschmidt boy is such a sweetheart,” his mother commented as he reached the bottom of the stairs. She was peeking between the blinds out the front window. “We never even have to ask him to mow our lawn these days, he just does it!”

Roderich shrugged and maneuvered himself to the kitchen. “His mom probably make him,” he replied. 

“Really? You think so?” his mother frowned, not looking convinced as she turned away from the window and returned to the stove. There was an omelet waiting in the skillet, sizzling slowly when she poked at it with her spatula. “Would you like some?” she asked.

“I’ll just have some cereal,” Roderich shook his head, already getting a bowl down from the cupboard. He slowly munched on his Raisin Bran while the sound of the lawnmower droned steadily from the front of their house. 

“Your father just went to go run some errands before the day got too hot,” his mother continued conversationally, adding a pile of diced vegetables from their father’s pet project in the backyard to the eggs. “You should spend some time outside as well, it’s a beautiful day out.”

Roderich pulled a face. “I need to practice for my upcoming recital,” he diverted.

Outside, the lawnmower choked on a stick in the yard.

“Surely you don’t have to do that _all_ day, honey…” she insisted.

“I still need to memorize my last piece,” he argued. “Studying for exams has kept me from practicing as much as I would like to lately.” 

Which was true, to be fair. His mother seemed to recognize this and she sighed, finally relenting. “All right. You know what’s best for you, I suppose. But before you go off to your little music room, could you give this to Gilbert? Even if his mother is the one making him mow our lawn, the poor dear must be parched out there.”

She held out a can of soda in front of him and Roderich took it with a grudging sigh, the aluminum cold against his palm. “Fine,” he said without enthusiasm, putting his cereal bowl in the sink before trudging out of the kitchen. So much for avoiding Gilbert until Monday.

Looking every bit as reluctant as he felt, Roderich left the kitchen and opened the front door, easily locating Gilbert a few yards down their lawn. To his (admitted) disappointment, his neighbor still had his plain white t-shirt on. Another sigh escaped his lips as he crossed the grass to where Gilbert was pushing the lawnmower, the blond’s back facing Roderich.

“Gilbert.”

The taller male continued to slowly work his way down the lawn. It was the same mower Gilbert had used when he’d first started mowing their lawn, the older wheels on the machine making it difficult to push. The extra work made Gilbert’s clearly defined arm muscles flex and ripple with effort below the sleeves of the t-shirt. 

“Gilbert!”

He still didn’t get a response so, rolling his eyes, Roderich walked over to the blond and went to stand in front of him, arms crossed over his chest with an impatient look on his face.

Gilbert looked up in surprise and blinked. Sweat was running down the sides of his face and matted his pale hair against his head. “Oh, hey, Roddy. What’s up?” he asked. The lawnmower rumbled away in its stationary position.

Roderich let a breath out in exasperation. “My mom just wanted me to give you this,” he said, thrusting the soda in Gilbert’s direction. “To thank you for always mowing our lawn or whatever, I guess.”

Gilbert’s expression immediately brightened. “Gee, thanks!” he smiled, taking it from Roderich’s hand and popping the top open, wasting no time in guzzling down half of the drink right there. “And my personal maid, to boot,” he added with a wink, making an exaggerated sound of satisfaction as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Your _what?!_ ” Roderich sputtered, face going red. 

Gilbert laughed bawdily. “I’m just fucking with you,” he grinned, finishing off the drink before crushing the can under his foot and tossing the crumbled up aluminum to Roderich. His non-existent reflexes just barely managed to catch it. “Tell your mom thanks, though.”

“You are completely unbearable—“

The lawnmower turned a notch louder as Gilbert started pushing it again, pointing to his ear with a shit-eating grin. “Can’t hear you!” he shouted. “The lawnmower’s too loud!”

Roderich stood there fuming for a moment before turning heel and stomping back to the house. He could still hear the sound of Gilbert’s obnoxious laughter even after he’d slammed the door shut. 

–

The rest of the weekend passed rather uneventfully. True to his word. Roderich spent most of his time inside rehearsing for his next piano recital, helping his mother with some baking when he needed to take a break. By the end of the weekend the house smelled like apple strudel and Roderich had a significant wrist cramp from playing the piano for so long. He hadn’t seen Gilbert since Saturday morning, but Roderich knew the older Beilschmidt boy liked to run around with his friends and get into trouble on Saturday nights and then the entire family went to church early the next morning. 

It wasn’t until Monday at school that he saw Gilbert again. Roderich had driven to school himself that day since he had a club meeting after school that would go late and so far it had rained the entire morning. Roderich walked into school with his clothes damp and his hair a complete mess. It was just going to be one of those mornings, Roderich thought to himself as he ran a hand through his flattened locks and glanced disinterestedly at the new banners hung on the walls that announced that prom was only two weeks away. With exams finally done, the focus could finally be shifted to enjoying the end of the year, although it was rather hard to do so when the weather refused to cooperate. 

As president of the LGBT Club Roderich had worked with the student council to make sure the dance was an all-inclusive event (Erzsi would have been proud), but other than that the brunet hadn’t felt particularly enthused about the upcoming event. The previous year he’d gone with Erzsébet and had tried to avoid as much drama as he could. It wasn’t really his type of event, but he still managed to have fun and enjoyed shopping for a dress with Erzsi leading up to the dance. 

But of course, this year Erzsébet was all the way in Belgium, and Roderich couldn’t really bring himself to care less about whether he went or not. It would just be the same as it was every year: drama would stir up between friends, ridiculous sums of money would be spent, and Gilbert would be asked to prom by every girl in the school. It was a waste of time, really.

“Hey Roddy!”

Roderich immediately scowled and shut his locker loudly, revealing the lopsided grin of Gilbert Beilschmidt standing next to his locker.

“What do you want, Gilbert?” he replied tartly, the rain doing little to sweeten his suddenly surly mood.

Gilbert’s features turned into a pout and he looked like a puppy who’d expected praise for bringing the newspaper in all torn up. His hair was still wet, even. “Why do I have to want something just to say hi to you?” he complained, leaning one shoulder against the lockers. “Maybe I just wanted to be friendly, I didn’t see you all weekend.”

“You saw me on Saturday, idiot,” Roderich retorted, trying to ignore the other as he carefully arranged the books from his locker into his bag. “And I was busy. I have to practice for my next piano recital.”

“I heard you playing!” Gilbert’s expression suddenly brightened. “After I’d turned off the lawnmower, I mean. You sounded awesome!”

Roderich blinked in surprise before quickly stifling the emotion. “Oh?” he forced his voice to take on a bored tone. “So you are spying on me.”

Gilbert just laughed and threw a hand behind his back, looking a bit sheepish. “I mean, I wasn’t _spying_ or anything, I just, uh, happened to hear you playing. Anyway,” he diverted quickly, “so prom’s coming up….”

“Obviously,” Roderich rolled his eyes. He could spot at least five different posters advertising the event from where they were standing in the hallway. 

“Yeah, I mean, duh, obviously,” Gilbert fumbled, covering it with an easy laugh. Roderich raised an eyebrow. Why was he acting so strange?

“So, uh, are you going with anyone? Someone from your little queer club, or somethin’?”

“Don’t call it that,” Roderich frowned, any previous curiosity [wiped away]. “And no, I’m not. Last year I went with Erzsi but obviously that’s not an option this year.”

A group of sophomore girls passed by at that moment and giggled when they saw Gilbert. Roderich’s eyes narrowed as he watched them. “So which lucky girl are you going to take this year?” he asked sarcastically. Last year Gilbert had gone with the top player from the girls’ soccer team. She was tall, blonde, and popular with the entire school—a perfect fit for the star player of the boys’ team.

“Not that I care, of course,” Roderich added abruptly in case Gilbert got the wrong idea. He couldn’t care less what his annoying next door neighbor decided to do for prom, even though he had heard that the only reason Gilbert had gone out with Michaela last year was because friends had set them up….

But Gilbert appeared to have not even noticed the girls making a pass at him until Roderich mentioned it. The other boy blinked dumbly and followed Roderich’s line of sight to where the female students were turning a corner with a swish of their short skirts. When Gilbert turned back to Roderich, the brunet’s expression had thinned to a tight line. “Oh, uh…I dunno, I haven’t really said yes to anyone yet. Soccer’s still keeping me busy, to be honest….Hey, are you okay?”

Roderich looked up at the genuine concern in Gilbert’s voice. 

“You kinda tensed up all of a sudden, is everything okay?” Gilbert repeated.

The first warning bell rang and Roderich shifted uncomfortably. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, wincing internally at how rushed it sounded. “I, uh, have to go to homeroom.”

Gilbert blinked at him, and for a second Roderich thought about how stunning his eyes were. The pupils were wide from how light it was in the hallway, and the spattering of sunlight they were allowed played with different facets of color in the iris. Roderich felt his mouth go dry.

“I have to go to class,” he felt himself say again.

“Right…” Gilbert replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice. Roderich swallowed and made himself step back. 

“Hey….”

Roderich stopped. “What?” he said, his voice coming out more exasperated than he’d intended. Gilbert seemed to flinch back from it. 

“Uh…nothing,” he finished sloppily. “You should probably go to class. Nerds like you shouldn’t be late, or somethin’, ha ha….”

He gave an embarrassed-looking grin and Roderich frowned, a number of questions running through his head. _Whatever, Gilbert was just being odd…._

“I’ll, um, see you later, Gilbert,” he said, giving him another questioning look before continuing down the hallway to his class. When he glanced back, Gilbert was rubbing his neck and his ears were bright red.

–

For the rest of the week Roderich couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what had changed in Gilbert. Maybe it was just the time of year—the hype of school dances did strange things to people, after all. 

Fortunately, club and soccer kept both of them busy during the school week, so the only time Roderich ever saw the other was in passing down the hallways or when Gilbert was practicing his soccer moves in the yard. Roderich’s window offered a tucked away view of the Beilschmidt backyard, so sometimes, when Roderich was working at his desk, he could watch as the ball would arc over Gilbert’s head in a perfect [rainbow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7mAG5GsN2E). 

But for as little as they saw each other normally, Gilbert seemed to be _avoiding_ him the entire week, even their morning drives to school suffocating under an awkward atmosphere. Roderich tried to shrug it off. Honestly, he was surprised the civility of their relationship had survived even this long. Maybe with both of them heading off to college in a few months Gilbert no longer felt that he had any obligation to interact with Roderich, since they wouldn’t have the same excuses to see each other. 

And shouldn’t Roderich be glad for that? Gilbert had been a thorn in his side since he first moved in; he was annoying and immature and, (disappointingly), _straight_. 

Still….

But it wasn’t until Saturday that Roderich finally got any contact from Gilbert. He had gone to bed the night before in a rather poor mood and had tossed and turned through a restless night, only to be woken up by a text from Gilbert telling him to look out his window. It came at about ten in the morning. The time Gilbert usually woke Roderich up with his mowing.

Still half-asleep, Roderich pulled on a t-shirt lying on his floor and stumbled to the window, pushing it open and shoving his glasses on before sticking his head out. He probably should have been more surprised than he was.

Gilbert was lying draped across the section of roof that jutted out from the kitchen window of the Beilschmidt house, his head propped up against his hand and his foot jammed against the gutter to keep him in place in case gravity decided to take effect. He had on his FIFA Germany uniform and _for fuck’s sake was that a bowtie?_

“Gilbert?”

“S’up, Roddy,” his neighbor said casually, as if he _wasn’t_ lying on his roof in a position set out to seduce his lover.

As Roderich’s mind caught up with his eyes he began to pale a bit, his jaw dropping in shocked bewilderment. “G-Gilbert?!”

The blond quirked an eyebrow. “S’up Roddy?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

Gilbert actually had the decency to start looking a bit embarrassed at the predicament, his free hand going to scratch behind his neck. “Well, uh, you know how I’ve been acting kind of… _off_ all week?”

“And this is supposed to explain it?” Roderich asked incredulously.

“Kinda….” Gilbert grinned at him sheepishly. Roderich made an exasperated noise.

“Look, uh, remember how I asked if you were going to prom with anyone?” Gilbert continued quickly. “And you went with that bi- I mean, Erzsébet, last year, so I was wondering if maybe, uh, look—I’m not good at these kinds of things ‘cause I’m not some total sissy like you—“

“ _That’s_ what this is about? Prom?!” Roderich cut in disbelievingly. His voice felt like it had risen an octave and Roderich was sure that at any moment now his parents were going to wonder what all the commotion was about and come investigate. 

Gilbert looked a bit desperate. “You had asked which girl I was going to take to prom but it’s not like that, I just—fuck, why is this so hard? Look, fuck, Roderich would you, uh, go to prom with—AUGHHHHH!”

“Gilbert?!”

Roderich’s eyes widened as he watched the gutter finally give way and Gilbert go sliding off the roof in a way that would have been comedic if it weren’t for the horrifying crash .2 seconds later. 

“GILBERT!”

–

By the time the ambulance arrived a small crowd had gathered in the Beilschmidt backyard. Roderich’s mother was attempting to comfort Mrs. Beilschmidt while Gilbert’s younger brother and Roderich’s father tried to gently prop him up with pillows. The Beilschmidts’ three dogs were yapping worriedly at the kitchen screen door, adding to the din of the approaching sirens. A few other neighbors had come to see what the commotion was about, including some kids from their school.

“Ugh, fuck,” Gilbert groaned, still looking a bit out of it as the paramedics moved him to the stretcher and began carrying him to the front yard.

“What were you _thinking?_ ” Gilbert’s mother kept demanding worriedly as they slowly walked towards the ambulance. Gilbert’s arm was twisted in an unnatural position and his nose was bloody and crooked along with a number of other scrapes on his face.

Gilbert didn’t answer except for the occasional grunt of pain as the paramedics lifted him into the back of the truck. But as they got him ready for transport and the anxious precession was asked to back away, Gilbert locked eyes with Roderich’s briefly, and Roderich could see that they were still that brilliant shade of bronze.

“He’ll be at St. Mary’s Hospital,” one of the paramedics said, and then they closed the doors and drove off.

–

News of the incident spread around the school quickly. By the end of the day, Roderich’s Facebook feed was full of posts concerning Gilbert’s wellbeing, people speculating why he did it, and whether or not he’d still be able to play soccer.

Roderich closed his laptop lid with a noise of disgust. People really could be unbearable. Of course, _Roderich_ knew why he had done it. It wasn’t like he could play naïve about what Gilbert was going to say. The fact had been sitting at the back of his mind the entire day, eating at his thoughts. What had that idiot been trying to play at, saying all of those things? Was it just a hoax? Had the rest of the soccer team put him up to it?

He’d been messaging Erzsi all day over the issue, although he was careful to withhold certain details. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Erzsébet, but he had the feeling that this was something he needed to ask Gilbert himself before getting other people involved. Especially a person like Erzsébet, who _always_ had an opinion concerning Gilbert Beilschmidt. 

On Sunday he finally got the chance to see Gilbert, but both of his parents were with him. His mother had brought a large bouquet of multicolored Gerber daisies with a card that read “ _Get Well Soon!_ ” on it in curling script and a fresh-baked apple strudel. His father joked that now he was going to have to mow the lawn, since Gilbert’s arm was currently immobilized in a thick plaster cast.

Roderich didn’t say much during his family’s visit and Gilbert didn’t prod him to like he usually did. With a churning stomach Roderich had a sinking feeling that they were both waiting.

So Monday afternoon he stopped by after his school club meeting, waiting idly in the lobby for half an hour before the nurse said that it was finally guest visitation hours. He followed her down the brightly-lit hallway to a more secluded part of the hospital before she stopped in front of a door and nodded for him to go in. Roderich took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses, and slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Roddy?”

He could hear Gilbert stirring on the hospital bed, the starched sheets rustling as he slowly propped himself up against the wall. There was a plastic cafeteria tray on the table next to him and the small satellite TV that hung in the corner of the room buzzed quietly with a black and white 60s sitcom. 

Roderich approached the bed and his gaze flickered between Gilbert’s cast and the half-eaten tray of food. “It’s a good thing you’re left-handed,” was the only thing he could think to say.

Gilbert gave a half-hearted laugh that lacked its usual luster. “Yeah, right? Otherwise I’d really be fucked….”

Roderich just nodded, letting the room lapse back into awkward white noise. “I, um, brought you these,” he finally said, holding up a plastic container full of peanutbutter cookies. “I mean, my mom made them, but she wanted me to bring them to you for her.”

This time Gilbert’s amused smirk seemed more like his old self and he shifted on the bed so he was sitting up straighter. “Any excuse to come see me, huh?” he joked.

Roderich shot back a scowl out of habit. “In your imagination, perhaps,” he retorted.

Gilbert chuckled, but it sounded sad again and he averted his eyes to the other side of the room. “Yeah, uh…I guess so,” he said.

Roderich’s stomach did a weird flip. “I’ll, um, just set these down here,” he filled the silence in awkwardly, feeling a bit dumb as he set the container down on the already crowded nightstand. 

“So uh—“ he began just as Gilbert started to ask, “So how was school today?”

Roderich’s cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, um, what were you going to say?” he asked.

“No, you first,” Gilbert replied.

“It’s not important,” Roderich said quickly.

“It’s fine,” insisted Gilbert. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, um…” Roderich shifted on his feet, suddenly wishing he wasn’t just standing next to the bed, unintentionally towering over the other boy. Gilbert seemed to notice his discomfort and he nodded to a chair in the corner of the room.

“You can sit, if you want.”

“Thanks…” Roderich replied and, feeling a bit self-conscious, pulled the plastic chair next to the bed. The chair was strangely low so when he sat in it Gilbert was the one looking down at him, the other boy’s oddly-colored eyes staring down at him underneath his unruly fringe. 

“I guess we should talk about what happened on, um, Saturday…” he finally said, trying to avoid looking at the other’s face.

Gilbert suddenly looked just as reluctant as Roderich felt. “Right…” he responded without enthusiasm.

“Did one of your friends put you up to it?” Roderich asked.

Gilbert appeared caught off-guard at the question. “What?”

“Like Francis, or Antonio—did they dare you to do it? Or was it the soccer team?” Roderich persisted. _Better to get this over with_ , he told himself.

“What are you talking about?” Gilbert frowned. 

Roderich squeezed his eyes closed. Of course he was going to make him say it. Roderich just hoped that if this was a prank, that they weren’t secretly filming it right now. 

“Asking me out to prom. Did one of your friends dare you to do it? I know you wouldn’t have asked otherwise. I know it’s just some kind of joke to you.”

Gilbert’s jaw had fallen open in shock and he stared at Roderich in disbelief. “I— _what?_ Roddy, what—no….”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, Gilbert, I know this has to be some kind of bet,” Roderich swallowed, turning his face away so Gilbert wouldn’t be able to see how flustered he was becoming. He could already feel his face heating up in humiliation. Why couldn’t they just get this over with?

“Roderich, what the hell….Why the fuck would you think that?”

“We’re complete opposites, you’ve basically said it yourself before. You make fun of me all the time and call me feminine just because I actually spend time caring about my appearances and like shaving my legs—you know, some people just _like_ the feeling it doesn’t mean—“

Gilbert interrupted his tirade with a frustrated noise, causing Roderich to pause mid-rant and stare at him in surprise. “What the fuck, Roderich! God, no wonder you’re so queer!”

“Excuse me?” Roderich frowned, a spark of anger twisting in his stomach. He felt his fists ball up at the sides of the chair. “Just because I—“

“Roderich, _everybody_ at school knows you’re gay,” Gilbert cut in, exasperated.

Roderich felt his ears burn red reflexively. “I’m the president of the LGBT Club—it’s not like I try to hide it!” he objected. “And I’m not gay, I’m—“

“ _Homoromantic asexual_ , or whatever,” Gilbert waved him off impatiently with his good hand. “I know.”

Roderich stared at him in shock. He hadn’t ever thought that Gilbert was listening; he’d only mentioned it once in front of the other….

“Look,” Gilbert continued, still looking frustrated. “I know you think you’re all special being the president of the social justice club at school and whatever, but did it ever occur to you that people outside of it might be gay too? I feel like I’ve been trying to tell you for months and I couldn’t get past that thick ego of yours!”

“ _I_ have an ego-!” Roderich protested, still desperately trying to process everything that was being said. 

“Yes, you!” Gilbert shot back without hesitation. “You sit up there on your high horse as if you’re better than everybody else just because you’re ‘different’ but you know what, Roderich, sometimes I think you’re the one living in a bubble with the way you keep treating people. You keep saying that we’re complete opposites, that I shouldn’t even be _talking_ to you. I mean, Christ, what decade are you living in, Roddy? This isn’t the _Mean Girls_ movie, this is the real life and everybody knows that clique stuff is full of crap. Alright, fine, you were right when you asked if someone put me up to this, but that’s only because Francis and Antonio knew I wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t talk me into it, so there, you got me on that one, is that good enough?”

For a good few seconds after Gilbert was done Roderich just stared at him, eyes wide. He’d argued with Gilbert plenty of times before, but this….Was this even an argument? Gilbert’s breath was coming a little faster from the exertion of his rant and his cheeks were stained red against his pale skin. But his eyes weren’t angry, they seemed almost desperate for Roderich to understand.

“But…but you’ve always dated girls!” Roderich blurted out, his voice trying to grasp onto a rock to stand on. “You make homophobic jokes all the time and _what do you mean_ you’ve been trying to tell me for months—you haven’t said anything!”

Gilbert seemed to force himself to breathe out, his eyes intensely clear when he looked up and locked eyes with Roderich. “I know. Those aren’t my proudest moments and, as hypocritical as this sounds after my rant, I guess I fell into the trap too, of who I was supposed to be and how I was supposed to act. But I swear, everything I’ve told you today about myself is one hundred percent true, and I really have been trying to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for _years_ , but, I guess it took me some time to figure it out myself. 

“Look, Roddy. Those first few years when you moved in I was going through a lot. We’d just moved and then Fritz died and my parents split. Ludwig was too young to know how much bad stuff was going on because of the divorce. And maybe it was because you lived next door, I don’t know, whatever, but you were always there, and I knew I could always count on you for that. Fuck…I think I loved you before I even knew what love was.” 

Gilbert rubbed his neck self-consciously and gave Roderich a nervous grin. A blush dusted his cheeks and his unusually-colored eyes hid under his pale, clumpy eyelashes. 

Roderich felt his lips form his name. “Gilbert….”

“You know,” Gilbert chuckled nervously, “I used to kick the ball into your yard on ‘accident’ when I was practicing, just so I would have an excuse to go over and see you. Your mom probably hated me for ruining her flower garden.”

“Why…why didn’t you just tell me?” Roderich wet his lips to ask, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “I thought the reason you were avoiding me was because you were done with me, because you didn’t care.”

“I’ve always cared, Roderich,” Gilbert said seriously. “You might be the biggest princess I know, and maybe you act a little different than the other guys at our school, but I’ve always cared about you. I’ve just never known how to say it.”

Roderich tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear to hide a shy smile. “Is that why you were so bad at asking me out to prom?” he asked.

Gilbert chuckled. “Climbing on the roof to ask you out probably wasn’t one of my better ideas,” he admitted. “But it was worth it if it finally got me to tell you all this.”

Roderich’s breath caught in his throat. 

“So Roddy…will you go to prom with me?”

Roderich blushed and turned to hide the smile warming his face. “You’re an idiot…” he said, unable to keep the affection out of his words. His heart was beating a little faster in his chest, his palms felt sweaty, and everything was finally falling into place. “You know my answer is yes.” 

“You’re such a priss,” Gilbert chuckled. 

The starched bed sheets rustled and Gilbert’s eyes were the most captivating color Roderich had ever seen, and when they kissed, Gilbert’s lips tasted just like fresh baked apple strudel.    



End file.
